


The east wind

by Several_very_small_mangoes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - The Reichenbach Fall, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Oneshot, Pre and Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 19:10:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11019732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Several_very_small_mangoes/pseuds/Several_very_small_mangoes
Summary: A short, poetry-like interpretation of the fall, with a non canon ending for poor Doctor Watson.





	The east wind

_Taking your life…_

The wind was harsh, the air felt as though it was biting, gnawing holes through his eyes and causing them to bleed, fogging up his vision to make sure he takes that step right off the roof.

_It’s an interesting expression,_

There is a man with a smile so wide you could see his gums shining, and a voice the consistency of melted chocolate. A man whose bite could tear through layers and layers of skin and muscle, chipping at your bone. A dangerous man with a criminal empire and a crown, willing completely to tear it all down.

_Taking it from who?_

There was a warm fireplace crackling with life as it flickered across the walls, causing shadows to take the shape of monsters and fairy tales. There are indents in two old and musty chairs, sitting face to face before the fire. Papers blow in drafts from the windows, ruffling the curtains. The air that seeps through the cracks in the walls tear up the papers on the floor and bite at the fire til it's gone. No one notices the fire fight the wind. No one is there to notice.

_Oh once it’s over it’s not you who will miss it._

A push is all it takes. One push, up and over. The man with the shinning gums and a smile, the man with an empire stained in blood has no problem dirtying his crown. Wide and taunting his eyes do laugh, a look that, of course, couldn’t be cherished for very long. _BOOM_ , blood stains the roof. Pain, heartbreak, loss, death. It’s all good. It’s all good.

_Your death,_

There is now only one man that remains on the roof, a phone to his ear, his heart beating fast. _BOOM, BOOM, BOOM._ Like a drum. A man on the pavement stands, staring, letting the wind bite through his eyes. Despite the bleeding his eyes are open wide. _“Don’t move.”_ The gnawing of the wind doesn’t cease until there is a hole straight through his chest and to his heart. Blood. Blood on his jumper. _“Stay where you are.”_ Of course he’ll stay. Of course he’ll listen. Unconditionally.

_Is something that happens to everyone else._

One step. A foot in open air, a body leaning forward, a phone on the ground. Just a gust of wind to hit the body already swaying on the edge. Yelling, screaming, _BOOM._ But unlike before, the noise didn’t come from a heart. His eyes stay open. There is already so much blood running into them from the crack in his head, the wind doesn’t have to do much anymore. With a laugh of glee it settles heavily into Doctor Watson’s heart.

Pain,

_"I'm a doctor, let me come through."_

Heartbreak,

_"Let me come through, please."_

Loss,

_"He’s my friend."_

Death.

_"Oh God, no."_

It’s all good. It’s all good.

_BOOM, BOOM, BOOM._ A heart beating like a drum. A doldrum

_Your life is not your own._

The indent is pressed back into a chair as the other remains cold, undisturbed. Stained with blood. Tears cloud his vision but he refuses to let them fall. He won’t bleed anymore precious blood for Sherlock Holmes. But his heart is still heavy and his brain is still porridge and he knows the fifteen different locations that hold hidden guns throughout the flat. One sits right across from him, hidden in plain sight. So, he gets up and walks to the fireplace that no longer holds any fire, wishing it would flicker across the walls and create it’s beautifully dangerous fairy tales as it once had. The papers atop the mantle had been pushed to the floor during the losing fight the fire endured. Lying exposed, where the paper once was, is an emergency gun. Doctor Watson decided that this does, in fact, count for an emergency.

_BOOM._

_Keep your hands off it._

The east wind takes us all in the end.


End file.
